Inclinata Resurgit
by MidnightInked
Summary: Rated M for adult themes and later lemons. A chance encounter, a break in a case, a devastating tragedy? How will Jace handle the fallout of his actions, can he forgive her, can he forgive himself? Was bringing down one of New York's biggest criminal organizations worth losing her? Losing himself? #clebastion #clace
1. Prologue

Prologue

December 20th

"This is what you wanted, right?" She said evenly. "If you can't have me, no one can?" Her grip was firm on the pistol as it pressed against her temple, finger parallel to the trigger.

"Clarissa please…" the black haired man begged. "I love you!"

"But you can't have me," she replied, blindly stepping backwards.

"Clary!" The blonde shouted. "Put the gun down! Don't make me do this!" He pleaded with her, his own gun reluctantly drawn, his aim as steady as the girl's. The girl simply shook her head, lifting her foot, raising herself onto the ledge of the rooftop. He hated this, hated the law in this moment. How it made him draw his gun on the victim, he knew, through every fiber of his being, that she would not fire on him or his partner, who struggled to hold the dark haired man back. But she was the one with a gun, the second she pulled it out, his heart stopped.

"Get him out of here!" The blonde growled towards his partner.

"No!" Clary screamed, pointing her left hand towards him. "He stays!" She shouted. "He stays," she repeated calm, level. The blonde noticed Clary was calm during the entire situation, drawing the gun, having a gun drawn on herself, even in his previous encounters with her, she was calm. Until he tried to remove the dark haired man, the reason they were all here.

"Okay," he said to her sternly. "Can you tell me why he has to stay?" When she closed her eyes, he inched forward, cautiously approaching her like an injured animal, waiting for her to lash out.

"Stay back!" She said unwavering. He froze, but didn't retreat.

"I hear you Clary, if you lower the gun, he can stay. Can you do that for me?" Where the hell was his backup?

"No." She said, her eyes flicking from dark haired man to the blonde.

"Can you tell me why he has to stay?" Negotiation wasn't supposed to be like this. This call wasn't supposed to go down like this.

"He needs to feel it," she answered, maintaining her even demeanor.

"Feel what Clary, what does he have to feel?"

"Clarissa stop this now! I love you!" The blonde chanced a glance back at the dark haired man.

"Sir, please stop talking! Let me handle this!" He glared at the other man, he wanted nothing more than to punch his face, instead, he was risking his life to protect the bastard.

"He needs to feel what it's like to have his heart ripped out," the blonde whipped his head back around at the sound of her voice, the slightest sign of her cracking. His eyes grew wide at what he saw. "To not be able to have what he wants. To watch it all fall through his fingers, unable to save it!" The gun was now pressed against her heart, her finger bent around the trigger. If it wasn't so damn scary, he would have found it poetic.

"Clary," the blonde tried again. "It can be over! We have the evidence, we can get a conviction, we can protect you!"

"Protect me?" She started laughing, swaying on the roof's ledge. "If the police could protect me, I wouldn't be on this ledge right now…" She closed her eyes and scrunched up her face.

"_Fire department is here, they only need a few minutes to deploy the airbag_" a voice said into his earpiece.

"You're right Clary, we weren't there for you before, but we can be there for you now," he slowly removed his left hand from his gun and held it out to her. "Let me help you now," he pleaded with her.

_"Clarissa, don't listen to him, he's lying! He only wants to take you from me!"_

The blonde shifted as he tried to look at the dark haired man and Clary at the same time. The dark haired man was struggling in his partner's grasp, his face red and his knuckles white.

"You can't help me, not this time," her eyes closed as she tilted her head up to the new falling snow, a slight breeze fanning her red hair out behind her.

"Step towards me Clary, away from the ledge," he asked her as calmly as he could. He was not trained for this, not really. He knew the basics, he'd done it before, but not like this, not when it got personal, how could he talk a girl out of jumping, ending her own life, when he had to stand there and protect the bastard that drove her to this consideration in the first place?

"I'm sorry, Jace" she sighed.

What happened next was both in slow motion and faster than he could comprehend as two gunshots echoed through the surrounding buildings.

At the sound of the blonde's first name on Clary's lips, the dark haired man broke free from the grip holding him back, rushing towards the girl. Her steady, calm demeanor broke as she shakily turned the gun from herself towards the dark haired man approaching her. The blonde screamed incoherently at her, while his partner tried to regain control of the dark haired man.

"Inclinata resurgit," he heard her say, no louder than a whisper, before her body jerked, she disappeared from the rooftop, and the world went black.


	2. The Beginning (Clary)

December 30th (the previous year)

Life didn't pick favorites, but parents did. They never admit it, especially to their children, but that doesn't mean it does not go unseen. Especially when one is a daughter who doesn't live and breath the company line. Despite my relatively clean record and performance in school, She's the rebel in the family. Her father let this fly in high school, indulging her proclivity to focus on the arts. When the time came for college though, her father's leniency lessened. He was anything but subtle in his attempts to draw her in. It started with him agreeing to pay her tuition and expenses, if she majored in something that he would find useful for his business practices. He would have preferred she went into business, finance, even a law degree, though he has her brother Jonathan wrapping that one up. The thing is, she wanted to be an art therapist, not exactly something that flows with the business tycoon that is Valentine Morgenstern, even if he did marry an artist himself. Undoubtedly people who work for and deal with her father on a regular basis need therapy, not that anyone has the gall to actually tell him such things. Her art skills themselves could come in handy if he needs a new logo or something for any of his construction or real estate businesses. Of course, he has her mom for that too, when she's not travelling for her job with the museum.

Surprisingly, it was her brother Jonathan who came up with a solution.

Psychology focusing on business organization, and a minor in art.

Not that she'd ever actually work for her father, but it does get her the necessary transcript for grad school _and_ still has her father bankrolling everything. Now _that_ does sound like Jonathan. It's a little manipulative, checks all the boxes, but primarily serves her own purposes. It's so Morganstern she was surprised her dad didn't catch onto it, though that would require him to actually pay attention to her life.

Which he does, when it suits his own needs.

"Clarissa, I noticed you've RSVP'd without a plus one for yet another event...you're not hiding your boyfriend from the family are you dear?" Father asked from across the table. They were at Sapori's for the usual Sunday family dinner; a reservation that has been set in stone for as long as she could remember. Not all of them always made it, school, travelling for work, sports activities, friends, life in general has lead all to miss dinner at least once a month. Yet somehow no matter what, there's always two of them at the booth in the back corner.

Tonight its all four of them.

"If I did have a boyfriend, would you blame me for hiding him from my family?" She replied with a smile. "Jonathan would go into overprotective big brother mode and scare him off, if he managed to survive that, you'd subtly find a way for us to break up, either from my own frustration about your constant remarks on how he's not good enough, or him from having to deal with the craziness that is my family…"

"I've never-!" Both Jon and her father said in unison.

"Zane Miller, 9th grade" She said pointedly to Jonathan.

"Liam LeBlanc, freshman year of college," She added staring down her father.

"Miller was a player," Jon said casually as he took a sip of his wine.

"Oh, and you're one to talk!" She threw at him with a laugh. "How many girls did you go through in high school? Any of them last beyond the bedroom?" Jon shrugged and motioned to a nearby server for more wine.

"And LeBlanc?" She nudged her father.

"He's French," was all her father said by way of explanation. She rolled her eyes. So much for the Swiss being neutral.

"Adam, Billy, Dayne…" She started rattling off the names of guys she could remember who expressed an interest in her in high school. "And that's only the ones I _know_ of… Jon, really, I know you always had someone from the team looking after me, even years after you left." She crossed her arms over her chest, unlady like for our upscale dinner. "I wouldn't be surprised if you have them tailing me in college too". Both her brother and father gave her smirks. Fantastic. Though her father favored Jon and mostly ignored her, it pleased and displeased her that the two of them schemed together to look out for her.

"So there's no man in your life Clary?" Her mother prods with a smile.

"No mom, the two men in my life are already more than enough to handle…" She choked on a bite of food, she knew Clary was right. While her father doesn't pay all that much attention to her, what attention he does give her is more than enough to handle, and Jonathan? He's an entirely different teased and tormented each other for a year in high school, he was a senior and she a freshman. He had a well established reputation, soccer star, player, troublemaker, though still academically promising.

It was challenging a lot of the time trying to be herself, rather than Jon's little sister. The women's soccer coach tried to get her to tryout, until she discovered Clary's brother hogged all of the athletic abilities, while the jersey chasers tried to befriend Clary in hopes of getting an in with her brother. Their mistake though, neither of the Morganstern children were that stupid and they only got themselves blacklisted for trying to use Clary.

That was one of the better parts about having Jon as a brother. While he hated having Clary at school with him, as any teenage boy would, that didn't stop him from still being her brother. Jon and his closest friends could tease her, torment her, anyone else that did saw the overprotective brother shining through. She did her best to make it easier on him, most of it came naturally. They travelled in different circles, she took the bus home or caught a ride with friends, he stayed late for practice. While he was being Mr. Popular in the cafeteria, she was in the courtyard sketching or goofing off with her few friends.

It also helped they looked absolutely nothing alike. Jon had dad's tall, lean swiss genes which extended to his platinum blonde hair while Clary was a touch over five feet and bright red hair, a near miniature of their mother. While Clary had her emerald green eyes, Jon's were such a dark green that in most lighting, they could be mistaken for black, adding to his imitation of their father, who did actually have black eyes.

"Honestly I'm surprised you let Simon through the gates to be my friend." She smiled at the thought of Simon.

"You were six, I hardly thought you two would be friends for life…" her father said with a chuckle. True, Simon and Clary were nearly inseparable, She lost count of the number of times she had coerced, blackmailed, and bribed him into attending family dinners with her when it would otherwise just be Clary and her father.

"Anyways," her father continued. "The nephew of a colleague of mine just moved into town a few weeks ago, he's rather handsome."

"Valentine…" her mother warned but the look on his face left no room for debate.

"And to which event is he escorting me to?" She asked cooly, taking a sip of the honeyed sweet dessert wine. She'd seen this game play out several times with her brother. Though he was almost always half a step ahead of the game and a very willing player.

"Tomorrow's New Year's Eve ball of course," her father said, as if there weren't any other events in the near future where a lady would have an escort in high society.

"Tomorrow? That's much too soon, like you said, I didn't RSVP with a plus one." It would be rude, of course to show up with a plus one after denying one before, especially so close to the event. It threw off seating arrangements, catering counts, time at the valet if they didn't ride with her parents…

"It won't be a problem Clarissa, surely everyone will be too stunned into happiness by you having an escort to notice." His commentary put a halt to my thoughts, one because he was telling her that short of hospitalization, she wasn't getting out of this, and two, it would serve to strengthen the Morganstern family name, which gave her leverage later on, if she survived, and a bruise if she didn't. It was eerie, these messages she could pick up from her father, hidden behind caring phrases in the look of his eyes, a set to the shoulder or a motion of the hand. Reading people, reading into their actions, their motives, it was a skill she both loved and despised. Friend or foe? Did someone really want to be her friend, or did they see her as a connection in society, a higher rung on the social ladder. It kept her friend circle small, with Simon being the closest of course, it was nice, meeting someone as herself, too young to know anything about all that, and too middle class to care. On the other hand, it made situations like these with her father uncomfortable. She knew too much, and didn't display enough. It made her come off as having grown into an obedient daughter, starting to toe the line, that she was drawn into the life he always envisioned for his family. The concession of an escort on such short notice was another stitch in the seam, closing the gap on her freedom. One year, four months and two weeks until graduation. One year, four months and two weeks until she can hop on a plane and leave her father behind. Another courtesy of Jon. When the contract was drawn up just before her first day of freshman year at NYU, the wording was very specific. Her father would pay tuition and expenses, as long as she pursued and obtained a degree that could be beneficial to his empire. _Could _be. Jon was kind enough to make sure that their father's lawyer didn't put anything into the contract that actually bound her to work for her father. He wanted to work for father himself, but he saw how much it weighed her down.

"Of course, you're right father," She leaned forward, feigning interest in his upcoming answers. "What can you tell me about him?"

A/N Thank you so much for everyone that expressed early interest in the prologue! I knocked the date of the incident back a few days, just fyi, it'll make sense later on down the road. ;)

This is definitely a Clace story, and I'm planning on giving us a timeline of both of them for a bit before they meet, and intertwine. Hold on while we Clebasatian.

I'm hoping to update every week or two. I do have a few other story ideas as well that are floating in my head. Unfortunately I have to at least write them down to clear them out, the plots of them definitely don't mix with IR.

p.s. I originally wrote this chapter in first person, and switched to third, my self-beta eye isnt that great, I'm sorry!

_Any guesses as to why Clary's on the roof? What happened to her? _


	3. Dance With Me (Clary)

December 31st (previous year)

Any misgivings Clary had about her suddenly having a plus - one for the ball were brushed away the moment the pair sat at the table. She had thought for sure there would at least be some side - eying or backhanded compliments about the rearranging of the seating chart. Her

father was right though, or flexed his power enough to make himself right.

Clary wondered if her parents had this planned well in advance. Maybe not specifically a business partner's relative, but certainly setting her up.

It was just after eight a.m. when Jocelyn woke Clary up with a bowl of oatmeal mixed with fruits and nuts. She hovered while Clary finished, then shoved her into the shower before the first of many professionals to parade through her bedroom suite arrived. When she saw how prepared the first professional was,"lead stylist" he called himself, Clary was suspicious of her

Parents and believed they definitely colluded. Her father thought her to be at the age where she should be establishing a long term relationship, dreaming about engagement rings and secretly making lists of baby names. Her mother, ever the artist, probably went along with it simply because she liked dressing her daughter up and rarely saw the opportunity.

The next seven hours dragged on as Magnus, the stylist and her mother orchestrated the production that was getting ready for a gala and meeting a man who may as well be her arranged husband. Under the watchful eye of Magnus Bane, Clary was buffed, waxed, tweezed,

painted and tortured with hot toots until her curls were tamed into smooth ringlets. A mass of bobby pins held the locks away from her face, feathering them across her shoulders and back. The makeup artist's bubblegum breath permeated her personal space as blemishes, real and imagined were concealed, her cheeks highlighted, and lips stained to the point it looked like she had spent the day eating raspberries instead of being tortured under the watchful eye of Magnus.

By four o'clock, Clary was tired and hungry after going through the ruthless "pampering" her mother put her through. Now she was taking advantage of the hour she had before Magnus came back to stuff her into a dress and heels by hiding in the guest bathroom eating her last bar of chocolate stashed in there from the time her mother went on a fad diet and commanded the

house be cleansed of anything processed or high in carbs and calories.

"Simon, please tell me you have some emergency worthy of getting me out of tonight!" She pleaded that between bites of chocolate.

"I don't appreciate the implication Fray," Simon contered, "besides, you brought this on yourself. You could have invited me to be your plus one to whatever snooty event you're trying to get out of…"

"The New Years Eve Charity gala at MoMA," Clary acknowledged with a sigh.

"Right, a charity gala - a.k.a. deep pockets everywhere you look. You know my band-"

"And that's why you can't be my plus one," she cut him off. Shortly after Simon's garage band got their first paid gig, he had attended a dinner function with her to support one of her father's business deals. Simon saw it as an opportunity to network and spread the word about his band. Simonn being Simon though, had awkwardly harassed a few people from a record label with business contracts under, Valentine's company. The irritation led Valentine to threaten Simon through Clary if he ever attended a function again and even mentioned music, the Rock Solid Pandas or any name they switched to- Simon and his band seemed to change their name every week- would never get paid to play in New York again. Unfortunately, Simon being an aspiring musician all these years later, still could not switch off the part of his brain that saw an opportunity and went for it.

"Still Clary, aren't those events like $ 20,000 a plate?"

"Maybe, probably. That's not…" Clary sighed. "My dad set me up with the nephew of a business partner. You know he would marry me off if it expanded his business portfolio."

"It's a charity gala with your parents Fray, not a date in a dark restaurant."

Clary shook the thought of Simon away and tried to focus on the conversation happening at the table before her. It was very technical, and though she had the accompanying knowledge, the topic bored her. Instead, she assessed her date:He was tall, probably six foot two, with midnight shaggy black hair and piercing eyes that were just as dark. Everytime he glanced up at her it felt like he was trying to read her very soul. Sebastian was charming, charismatic. He managed to draw the ever grumpy Mrs. Penhallow into the conversation, a feat most stopped trying to do some time ago. She usually only scouled, judged the other attendants less than silently, and pestered her husband to take her home shortly after the requisite publicity was accomplished.

Now she sat forward in her chair, chin in hand, eyes sparkling as Sebastian talked about accompanying his uncle across the North of France making lucrative business deals. Whenever the conversation turned towards his stay in the U.S., he would look over at Clary and smile. His smile made her feel like they shared a secret, except Clary wasn't in on it, and that made her nervous. He was handsome, despite his nose being slightly large for his face, and the few hours they spent together so far weren't horrible. To be the reason someone stays or goes from a foreign country though, that felt very heavy for a first date. Should she have expected anything less from a man selected by her father though? Ambitious,focused, she got the vibe that he knew what he wanted when he saw its and went after it until he got it. Right now, that focus seemed to be on her…

Sebastian cleared his throat and looked at her expectantly.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Mrs. Penhallow was just asking how your studies are going. You're almost finished, aren't you?"

"Oh, right. Yes, I only have three semesters left of my undergrad, but then another two years in the Masters program if I get accepted…" She glanced at her father, nodding to herself when she saw he was deeply engrossed in a conversation with a man standing at his shoulder.

"Graduate school? Your father never mentioned you wanted to pursue another

degree." Sebastian had a deep frown on his face.

Clary blinked. She knew her father didn't take an interest in her life generally unless he saw a way for it to benefit him. A behavior she had grown used to once she started paying attention to it and the dynamic of her family. She thought he at least knew she planned on pursuing her master's degree if the program admitted her. Grad school would limit the hours she would be able to work for him. She was also curious about Sebastian's reaction. He had a charming and commanding presence. Clary didn't get the vibe that anything intimidated Sebastian, including an educated woman. Perhaps it was about accessibility then. A master's program took up a lot of hours between lectures, homework, studying, the internships she would have to do. For a man who spent a fair amount of time travelling, her having an anchor to New York didn't make a logical pair. She couldn't jet around the continents at a moment's notice. At nearly every business dinner she attended with her father, the men had spouses or armcandy. That wouldn't be her and Sebastian. Looking him up and down, Clary thought it could also be he was simply an old-fashioned, traditional man like her father. His uncle seemed like the type to have his wife rely on him, spending the day with other wives of the social elite. The black credit card and string of pearls would complete the image.

"My father would rather I come work for him after graduation. He believes if he doesn't support the decision, that I'll drop the idea. He's getting old, so I let him have his delusions…" She smiled jokingly and patted her father's arm.

"Who's getting old?" Valentine asked, shitting his attention as the man he was talking to disappeared into the crowd.

"Nobody, nobody..." she smiled again, "we were just talking about my education."

"You're not still on about that silly art degree are you Clarissa?" Clary looked over to her mother as her father insulted her passion. The redheaded artist had her hands in her tap and her head bowed, though she continued to drabble on with another wife.

"Art therapy is not silly father. I can help a lot of people heal from a lot of traumas and manage a myriad of disorders-"

Valentino rolled his eyes and looked over at Sebastian. "She's a dreamer, my daughter. It'll pass. Soon she'll be working for the family business. Isn't that right dear?" He drapeda hand over her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

Before the conversation could continue, the master of ceremonies called for everyone's attention. A panel of guests gave speeches about how grateful they were for the donations and exposure. It was the same platitudes heard at any given charity event her father required her presence at. Thankfully, the food quickly followed the last speech, and her father's attention was redirected by the other guests at the table.

"So Sebastion, my father didn't tell me much about you, claimed he wanted me to make my own judgments. I wonder why that is? " Clary asked between bites of her baby shrimp salad with not

enough of the tomato-herb vinaigrette. She thought for the price of a plate, these events could at least decently dress the salad.

"There's not much to me really," he alluded before taking a sip of his wine. "My parents passed away when I was a kid. My aunt took me in when I was six. I think it was ten when she met Jeremy. He taught me almost everything I know about the business. Rather useful to be gainfully employed before high school's even over. I've spent the last eight years traveling between the States and Europe helping him handle everything. A few years ago he introduced me to the big boss, your dad,right?" He looked over in Valentine's direction.

"I guess so, yeah,he doesn't really talk business at home."

A shadow crossed over Sebastian's face at Clary's statement. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't get a read on him. All through the appetizers and halfway through dinner, Clary was bothered by her inability to get a clear read on her date. Their conversation quickly steered away from her education and his business work, into less serious topics. Hobbies, music, favorite authors (Ayn Rand for her, Stephen King for him) and other menial topics more relevant to first date territory.

Just before dessert though, things drifted back towards her father's business when a man she recognized as an office associate slipped into a recently vacated seat.

"So you're the infamous Sebastian," he reached over Clary to shake Sebastian's hand. She looked at him as she drew a long trip of wine, rolling her eyes when he bumped her plate.

"I wouldn't say infamous, no." Sebastian replied after barely shaking the man's hand. "And you are?"

"Anson Pangborn, I handle security..for the company. Come see me on Monday." the man looked over Clary then turned his attention back to Valentine for a few minutes Clary rolled her eyes.

"What?" Sebastian asked with a chuckle.

"This," she waved her hand toward Pangborn. "His work never stops," She stabbed at a wayward blueberry. "My sixteenth birthday party, the only girls that showed up were the daughters of his business associates? Of course all of their fathers were in attendance too. On a day that should have been all about me, his attention was wrapped up in another business deal. He left half way through my eighteenth birthday, never showed for graduation. But events for his reputation or public image? I best be there, even now with school work.." She pushed her plate away and sighed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to unload on you. It's just... I'm doing everything I can to distance myself from him, and he goes and sets me up with a man who's apparently just as dedicated to the same company…"

"Dance with me?"

* * *

A/N: I appreciate the patience and encouragement from everyone! I know its been AGES... way too many months since I promised the next chapter. But there it is! Perhaps not the best editing job, I apologize. I've been doing most of it from my phone. While reworking my notes after such a long break, I basically replotted the story. *hides*. So the previously posted chapters are getting the axe for the moment, and be smelted into something that fits the new path. Don't worry though, the prologue isn't changing, and we'll still see an extended chapter of it in all its intensity. Hope to see you soon! ~J.


End file.
